Stripes
by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is Britannia, the United Kingdom's superhero super-soldier. He's finally not the only one. WWII Low-Powered Superhero AU. USUK if you squint. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**From 7/2011**

" _Arthur Kirkland?"_

" _Yes sir?"_

" _You've shown great promise and dedication throughout your training."_

" _Thank you, sir."_

" _We've been wondering what you'd be willing to do for your country."_

" _S-sir, if you're asking me to be a spy, I'm afraid I wouldn't be a very good one. My German and Italian are passable, but I've been told I have a very strong accent."_

" _That's not what we're asking you to do."_

" _Sir?"_

" _My question still stands. What would you be willing to do for your country?"_

" _Anything, sir."_

" _Excellent."_

–

Britannia, the United Kingdom's own super soldier, hero of the British Isles. Arthur supposed he could do worse. At least whoever had designed his costume had some amount of common sense, he wasn't wearing a robe as had been the original plan and he didn't have a cape that could get tangled in things and choke him. No, he was practically clad in all black, even his full-face mask, except for the red and white stripes of his nation's flag on his chest crossing in the center of his chest to give the Nazis somewhere to aim at. If Arthur had designed the costume, he would have just stuck with black.

So he sat in the tent, waiting uncomfortably for his superiors to tell him why he was here.

Finally the officer he was waiting for entered, but he was followed by another officer, American by Arthur's guess, and following him was another man in costume. Looking at this new-comer, Arthur supposed that he got off easy as far as the gaudiness of his costume was concerned. The new-comer's costume was navy blue with several white stars on the chest and red and white stripes on his legs and arms. To finish it off, he wore navy boots and white gloves and a navy full-face mask.

"Britannia," his superior called.

"Sir," Arthur replied, standing and saluting the others.

"Britannia, I'd like you to meet the Americans' super soldier, American Glory." Arthur nodded at the other super-soldier who grinned and offered him a hand. Arthur took it firmly and shook it, letting a small smile grow on his face. The Americans had finally joined the war.

-  
A/N: So I've recently accepted that I'm a comic book nerd (finally) and am super pumped for the Captain America movie, but that's not what gave me the idea for this. No, this was inspired by the back story of a Marvel hero named Union Jack. Basically the British army during WWI (yes, the first one) recruited this guy to rally troops and scare the enemy. So this idea came to me and it wouldn't leave. Then I saw (on 7/1) that the theme for July first in the summer camp was "Hero", so I wrote this, then I realized it wasn't long enough, but I didn't have the time to lengthen it. So here you go.

 **This is a very old story, my writing has greatly improved since. I'm uploading it here for archival purposes. Please keep that in mind before offering constructive criticism.**


	2. Chapter 2

**From 9/2011**

Once Arthur had been recruited to the super soldier program, he'd been encouraged to build up a facade that would keep people from suspecting that he was Britannia.

Training had been intense. Arthur had always been fast, being the youngest and smallest of four boys for nine years had taught him the importance of speed, but the training he'd been put through had constantly pushed him to the edge of his abilities, which was the point. He was apparently now at the limit of his body's potential. He still was very lean however, probably due to the nature of his training, which had focused more on endurance and speed than strength.

Arthur had decided to use his slender build to help create his facade. No one would ever suspect a meek, bookish young soldier who didn't show much interest in fighting or tactics to be the nation's super soldier, so Arthur forced himself to suppress his normally grumpy and fiery personality to protect his identity.

–

American Glory's recruitment story was very similar to Britannia's.

Alfred F. Jones was a fresh young army recruit, very athletic, but with a fair bit of brains as well. He had been the running back for his school's football team and had expressed interest in studying science before he'd volunteered for the U.S. Army.

He'd quickly been drafted by the team that created the American hero and before long found himself training heavily to become America's super soldier.

His general happy-go-lucky nature and air of innocence made it easy for Alfred to cultivate an image as an incompetent, but well-meaning, buffoon, a person that could never possibly be the secret identity of American Glory.

–

"How much longer do we have to wait?" American Glory asked impatiently.

Britannia sighed and kept his attention focused on the road. "We're waiting for the next set of Nazi trucks to go by so we can sneak on to them, get into their base and advance the Allied cause, forgive me for not being able to speed the krauts along."

The American groaned and pulled out one of his pistols. He began to fiddle with it, much to Britannia's chagrin.

"Would you cut that out?" the Englishman hissed, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of his companion.

"But I'm so bored!" he whispered in response. "Why can't we just bust in there and kick some Nazi ass? We could defeat the entire Axis if I was allowed to put my plan into motion."

"That's not what our mission is! Now stop whining and act like the soldier you're supposed to be, you damned Yank!" Britannia whirled around furiously, ready to smack the American if he didn't shut up.

"Hey, aren't those the trucks we're waiting for?" American Glory asked. Britannia quickly spun to face the road again.

–

Alfred Jones gleefully made his way through camp, clutching his new copy of the comic book describing all of American Glory's latest fictional adventures. It was his little way of celebrating what he and Britannia had managed to accomplish the previous night. Soon enough, everyone in camp would know about the prisoners they'd rescued, but the espionage they had also done would, of course, remain top secret. He was somewhat disappointed that he couldn't do all the things his comic book self could, but comic-him was a super hero, and he was just a guy in a costume.

Alfred was so distracted by his internal celebration that he didn't notice the other soldier walking towards him until they literally collided, causing them to land in a pile with Alfred on top.

"Blast," the man underneath him muttered as he lifted a hand to cradle his skull.

"Oops!" Alfred exclaimed, letting out a booming laugh for good measure as he slipped into his idiot persona. "Sorry buddy, I didn't see you there."

"No, no!" the pinned Englishman, the accent was a dead give-away, protested. "I wasn't looking where I was going. It's my fault."

Instead of standing up or at least moving off of the other man like most people would do, Alfred decided to stay where he was, all part of the act of course. "Oh shit! My comic!" Alfred exclaimed, as if he'd just noticed that it had fallen from his grasp. He flailed as he attempted to search for it, causing the man beneath him to let out a gasp of pain.

"Oh, heh, sorry," Alfred offered, still not moving from his position.

The man beneath him offered a sheepish smile. "I-if it's not too much trouble," he wheezed, "could you please get off of me?"

"Sure," Alfred replied, hopping to his feet, then pulling the other man up after him.

Alfred took advantage of the other man's momentary confusion to observe the Englishman. He was probably only a little shorter than Alfred himself was, but the way he curled into himself made him appear smaller. He was lean, with messy blond hair, and darker, bushy, eyebrows placed over brilliant green eyes, eyes that were markedly similar to Britannia's. The main difference between their eyes was that Britannia kept his focused on his target, like a hawk watching its prey, and this man kept his trained on the ground, though occasionally they flickered upwards in their nervous fluttering.

"I offer you my sincerest apologies," the Englishman murmured, still staring at the ground.

Alfred stared at him for a moment. Other than his eyes and his general build, there was nothing to suggest that this quiet and submissive man could possibly be the masked hero of the British Isles, yet Alfred was still intrigued.

"Nah. It's all my fault," Alfred declared wrapping his arm around the other man's shoulders. He didn't miss how the Englishman momentarily tensed underneath him. "What say I make it up to you with some chocolate I've got in my tent?"

"A-alright," the Englishman hesitantly replied as the American dragged him away.

 **This is a very old story, my writing has greatly improved since. I'm uploading it here for archival purposes. Please keep that in mind before offering constructive criticism.**


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